


Conjugal Visit

by abstractsatanism



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Biting, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It Makes Sense in Context, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Prison, Prison Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Service Top, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), basically dream is in prison and they fuck, death but make it horny, dream thinks hes a god but whats new, it's not real dream just thinks about it, necromancy mentions, real ones know whats up, the author does not know how to not use swear words, the author spent all day writing this instead of doing homework, the author was too fucking amused by the skeppy cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsatanism/pseuds/abstractsatanism
Summary: “You know what I care about.” George is so bold, he’s rarely ever this bold, only acts like this when he plays Dream for all he’s worth, when he knows Dream is going to give him the throne, the SMP, his last life, immortality. Dream would lay it all at his feet if George would justtake a step closer to him. “We both know there was something there I cared about. And it wasn’t a fucking fish.”George visits Dream in prison and they fuck.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 1767
Collections: MCYT





	Conjugal Visit

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched the Pandora's Vault reveal on Tommy's stream and this just... came out of me. I spent way too long on this. Anyways, this ones for the gang on Tumblr, specifically Isaiah who I stole some ideas from. Please enjoy!

There wasn’t a single muscle in Dream’s entire body that didn’t seem to ache. He supposed that was his fault, sitting cross-legged on obsidian for hours everyday was definitely the cause. He supposed he could get up, pace around the cell, could even do a full blown workout if he really wanted to. But that wouldn’t help him.

If his plan was going to work, everyone needed to think he was as helpless as possible.

If the time on his clock was correct, it had been about five days since Tommy had first visited him. He knew it would be another two before he came back. So when he heard the sound of the lava surrounding him receding, at first he thought he was actually losing it.

But that couldn’t be true. In the five days Dream had been in this stupid fucking cell (that he had helped design, god damnit), he knew exactly what the lava sounded like. Every gurgle, every sizzle, every time it hit the walls of his cell it sounded exactly the same. It became comforting, in a way, monotonous, just like everything else was. So he _knew_ that something was different, knew that the lava sounded different as it receded from the ceiling.

And so he waited, because that was all he could do. He sat and waited in his stupid fucking obsidian cell, but this time, he could guess who was waiting for him on the other side of the lava lake. It couldn’t be Tommy, he knew Tommy hated the way the steep drops and endless lava reminded him of his month in exile, knew Tommy wanted to visit him as little as he possibly could. It could be Sapnap come to mock him again, like he did as he herded him out of his base, in front of the entire SMP. It could be Quackity, come to talk about Schlatt. Dream had no idea what was wrong with Quackity, but clearly _something_ was, and he knew it was related to Schlatt. It was really only a matter of time before Quackity came to ask about Schlatt’s final gift. It could be Puffy, come to try to fix him, some dying notions of maternal affection leaving her clinging onto the idea that Dream might be redeemed. It could even be Sam, just coming to talk. They used to be friends once.

But as the lava fell to beneath his cell and the pistons controlling the bridge started activating, Dream thought he was losing it for a second time.

Because currently floating over a pit of lava, softly illuminated by the glow, was _George_ of all people.

He hadn’t seen George in- well he hadn’t seen George in forever. Months, maybe. Not since El Rapids tried to blow up Eret. And even then, George refused to meet his eyes the entire time. No, the last time he saw George, was able to look him in his eyes, grab him by his shoulder, bury his nose into the small part on the side of George’s neck to smell the lilac shampoo he always used, was shortly after he dethroned him. And that was a lifetime ago.

_Just tell me you hate me_.

Dream’s not the same person he was months ago.

He doesn’t think George is the same person, either.

After the El Rapids Incident, George vanished like a ghost. No one had seen him, no one even knew he left besides Sapnap. Dream gave Punz a handful of emeralds to track him down, and a week later Punz told him he found a little cottage in a flower forest, miles from the main SMP lands, with no George, but a leather helmet dyed his favorite shade of blue on an armor stand in the corner. And that was enough for Dream. Months ago, that was what Dream wanted, George out of sight and out of mind. He needed George out of the way for this to work.

But now George was getting off of the bridge, standing a few feet away from him. He had his glasses on, and Dream had the unshakeable urge to pounce up and rip them off, to throw them in lava, wanted to see the pain in George’s eyes more than he wanted to breathe.

“Hello”

_Fuck_ he hated George, hated how fucking on edge he sounds, on the precipice of casual and broken, wanted to tip him over one way or the other, force George to acknowledge the thing between them or to leave.

“Hello there.”

“What are you even doing?”

Dream looked to the left, then the right, then down to his lap. “Sitting?”

George rolled his eyes and lightly kicked his foot against the obsidian floor, the way he always does when he’s annoyed with Dream. “Sapnap told me about what you did. About your “evil lair” or whatever.”

“You talked to Sapnap?” Of course that was the thing Dream pointed out.

“Of course that’s the thing you point out.” George rolls his eyes again. “Yes I talked to Sapnap, I talk to Sapnap all the time.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever, dipshit. We’re best friends.”

No they aren’t. “No you’re not.”

“We’ve been best friends since you told us to fuck off.”

_Ah, there it is_. He’d been waiting for George to get mad. Even then, George wasn’t even that _mad_ , he was just upset. Petulant, like a child. Or a King who didn’t get his way.

When it became obvious that George wasn’t coming over to him, Dream started to stand. “So what did Sapnap tell you about my “evil lair”?”

“That you had lost it.” George said, with all the grace of steamroller. “That you planned to steal everyone’s stuff and hold it hostage. That you were going to put Skeppy in a cage.”

Dream couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the mention of the Skeppy cage. And when George met his chuckle with an adorable fucking giggle, Dream’s chuckle turned into a full-blown wheeze.

“We’re you seriously going to put Skeppy in a cage you weirdo?”

“He’s the one thing Bad cares about! I didn’t have many other options!”

And with Dream taking a seat on his chest full of empty books, and George standing, unmoving at the spot where the bridge dropped him off, they laughed like nothing was wrong. _This,_ Dream thinks _is why he wanted George to be King._ The way George was able to see a completely fucked up situation and laugh it off like it was the funniest thing in the goddamn world, the way he always seemed to float above all the petty squabbles and useless wars on the SMP, is why George made such a good King.

Why George made such a good partner for a man who would be God.

Except Dream didn’t feel like God, not right now. He did, almost, when he had Tubbo backed into a corner, axe against his neck, as he whimpered out his goodbyes to Tommy. He was so close.

_This is just a minor setback_ , Dream thinks.

And he doesn’t feel like a God, since he realized George has stopped laughing a couple seconds ago, leaving the two in an unbearable silence again.

Dream counts _one, two, three, four, five_ beats until George breaks the silence again.

“Sapnap said you didn’t have anything for me.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have anything for me,” George specifies, goggles trained on Dream’s face, bare without his mask, “in your lair. You didn’t have anything I wanted.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what did you have of mine?”

Dream had to look away, “I had Beckerson.”

“You know I don’t care about Beckerson.”

He can feel the implication on George’s lips, almost accusatory. He knows what he’s implying, knows how weak it makes Dream feel.

“Yeah” Dream meets George’s eyes again “I know.”

He lets the words hang in the air, almost revels in how uncomfortable George looks. Almost flinches when George finally takes a step forward, into Dream’s cage.

“I want you to say it.” George is almost a foot away from Dream now. Dream thinks if he reached out both of his arms, he could pull George flush against his chest, could smell his lilac shampoo again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s a lie. It’s a blatant lie that Dream breathes out into the space between them, an ugly hunger curling in his gut that’s so _familiar_ and so _George_ that he doesn’t know what to do expect reach out and-

“You know what I care about.” George is so bold, he’s rarely ever this bold, only acts like this when he plays Dream for all he’s worth, when he knows Dream is going to give him the throne, the SMP, his last life, immortality. Dream would lay it all at his feet if George would just _take a step closer to him_. “We both know there was something there I cared about. And it wasn’t a fucking fish.”

And George takes a step closer to him, and all of a sudden Dream forgets how to breathe.

“Me.” He strangles out of his broken throat. “The thing you cared about was me.”

Dream supposes he doesn’t need to remember how to breathe, because George is pressed against him. The kiss is fast, almost knocking Dream back, but timid. Like George was so excited to finally kiss Dream again, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed.

Dream makes up George’s mind for him, grabs him by the hair and angles his head the way he wants, and lets the ugly thing bunched up tight in his stomach unfurl and wrap itself around George. He kisses George like he’s starving, like he hasn’t kissed George in months, tries to worm his way out of his own skin and into George’s, wants to make a permanent home inside of his body.

_Fuck_ if George doesn’t let Dream fuck him he thinks he might die.

George has to wretch himself out of Dream’s hold, rests his forehead against Dream’s while he gulps down air. “It always comes down to you, doesn’t it?” He dives for Dream’s mouth again, open lipped and hungry, just like Dream feels. Dream wants to devour George, and the best part is _George wants to let him_.

He slots one of his legs between George’s thighs and moves his hands to the small of George’s back. George is so caught up in kissing him, he nearly jumps at the way Dream presses George down, forcing him to grind against his thigh.

_This is why you had to get rid of him_ Dream thinks. George is dangerous, a livewire underneath Dream’s skin. Tommy and Techno were _so close_ to figuring it out, too. He had to dethrone George, had to push him away before anyone saw the way Dream just _melted_ to George. Before they could use George against him.

But now, with George grinding against Dream’s thigh so desperately it almost looks instinctual, letting out the prettiest sounds Dream has ever heard in his life, he’s having a hard time remembering why he didn’t just keep George the entire time.

_He hopes Sam has earplugs._

Dream goes to kiss at George’s neck, reveling in the way it causes George’s hips to stutter, and goes to unbutton his jumpsuit. But George’s hands meet his own, hurriedly ripping the clasps free, and Dream is completely naked against the harsh wood of the chest. George’s hand goes to grab Dream’s dick the same time Dream’s go to pull Georges shirt above his head.

He races to get George just as naked as him, thinks that finally feeling all of George’s bare skin again after so long will finally satiate him. But even with one hand possessively gripping George’s ass and the other holding both of their cocks, even with George breathing his shaky broken moans into Dream’s mouth, its not nearly enough.

He pushes George away from him and finally gets to look into his eyes. Dream’s sure his stupid goggles are somewhere on the floor, but he can’t help but care when George’s pupils look so blown out, so desperate.

“Lay down,” Dream says with a gentle push to George’s shoulders.

“On the fucking obsidian? Are you joking?”

Dream sighs, but he missed this. The way that, even when turned on to the point of desperation, George was always so bratty and demanding. At least until Dream fucked it out of him.

Dream crouches down to grab his discarded jumpsuit, grumbling the entire time. He lays in down neatly on top of the obsidian floor, and then bunches up George’s shirt to use a pillow. With a flair of his arms, he says “There. Is it to your liking, your highness?”

The words are out of Dream’s mouth before he can take them back.

He hates the way George seems to shrink into himself. He wraps his arms around his torso, and his head drops by just a half a centimeter. But it makes all the difference.

“Shit, George. I’m so sorry I-“

“It’s fine. It was a while ago.” George cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

It’s clearly not fine. George seems to be looking anywhere but Dream, studying the variations in the obsidian walls.

Dream can’t believe how fucking stupid he is.

“Fuck, George, come here-“

“I said it’s _fine_ really. I didn’t even care when it happened.”

“George,” Dream says, somehow both a few feet and an entire world away. “ _Please_ come here.”

And because George is just as week for Dream as Dream is for him, he comes.

He kneels across from Dream on his ugly prison jumpsuit. He’s still not looking at him. Dream sighs, and goes to grab George’s hands. “George, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s just a stupid nickname Dream. It’s not a big deal.”

But Dream knows it’s a big deal, knows by the way that George is still refusing to meet his eyes. So he does the one thing he knows for sure how to not fuck up, and kisses George so sweetly he hopes it makes his teeth hurt. Tries to pour all of the apologies George won’t listen to into the movement of his lips. He reaches down to grab George’s cock and notices he’s gone soft because of their spat. So Dream puts all of his energy into palming his cock, running his palm across the shaft and lightly thumbing the head in the way he knows makes George squirm.

It works, evidently, because George is quickly hardening again, trying to buck is hips into Dream’s hold. Dream smirks into the kiss and grabs George by his shoulders, slowly lowering him down so his back is against the jumpsuit. All the while George is rutting into Dream’s hand, moaning louder and louder, trying to goad Dream into speeding up.

“Shh baby” Dream whispers, “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

“You better you fucking prick.”

Dream tsks in annoyance, apparently George isn’t far gone enough to stop talking back yet. But that’s ok, Dream knows George’s body almost better than he knows his own. So he leans into George’s neck, breathes in deeply the smell of lilacs and _George_ , and bites down hard enough to drawn blood.

_And George cries._

He cries out so fucking beautifully Dream wishes he could stay here forever, covering George’s body completely with his own. George’s entire body seems to shake with pleasure, thighs coming up to wrap against Dream’s middle and pull him down, pressing their cocks so sweetly together. Dream spends a moment here, wrapped up in George, lazily grinding down onto George’s cock, teeth still embedded in his neck, before he takes both of his hands and pulls George’s thighs apart.

_Holy shit he doesn’t have lube_.

This had never been a problem before. It seemed like Dream and George had stored a spare bottle of lube in every corner of the SMP, from Dream’s original base, to George’s mushroom cottage, to the community house-

That’s a thought process he doesn’t want to go down right now.

“Shit, Georgie,” Dream says, pulling his teeth from George’s neck, idly patting his hair to calm him down, “I’m so sorry baby, but we don’t have lube, I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck you.”

“My-my jean’s pocket,” George manages to breathe out, looking properly wrecked once again. “There-there’s some in my jean’s pocket.”

Dream is absolutely stunned for a second. He doesn’t believe him, not at all. So he reaches for George’s jeans and feels around in his pockets and-

And pulls out a brand new bottle of lube.

Dream literally doesn’t know where to begin. “How-why? Did you-did you actually?“

“What?” George says, blushing bright red and looking away.

“Did you actually manage to sneak in _lube_ into a maximum security prison?”

George scoffs, turns up his nose at the idea. “Of course not.”

“George, then why am I holding a bottle of lube in my hands right now?”

“I didn’t _sneak it in_ ,” George insists, “Sam gave it to me.”

“SAM DID WHAT?”

George finally looks back at him, still bright red but with a cocky, all too proud of himself smile on his lips. “Well I mean, it is a conjugal visit, isn’t it?”

Dream has no idea what to say. This is absolutely the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He’s _locked up_. In a _maximum security isolation cell_. For committing _several_ crimes against every single person in the SMP. And for some reason, the _warden_ is ok with him having _sex with his boyfriend_.

He laughs, loud and ugly and uncontrollable. His chest is heaving so hard he doesn’t think his arms can support him, so he lowers himself on top of George and brings George closer to his chest. He’s wheezing with laughter at this point, and George is so happy he starts laughing too. And so there they are, completely naked and wrapped up in each other, crying with laughter, surrounded by obsidian walls and an ocean of lava. The entire scenario just makes Dream laugh harder, coming out in long wheezes and making him light headed. George pulls Dream’s head back, looks into his eyes, and starts laughing harder.

Dream hasn’t been this happy in months.

_Dream hasn’t felt his human in months._

The thought is sobering, bringing him down to Earth, but not entirely killing the mood. Their laughter fades into soft smiles, beaming at each other. George looks so nice when he smiles. Dream wishes he would do it more often, genuine and full of teeth and out of breath. He leans down to kiss George on his nose, which makes George let out another cute giggle.

_Fuck he missed this_.

Dream goes back to spread George’s thighs, mindlessly petting the smooth, pale skin. “Well, I suppose thanks to our generous benefactor, I’m gonna finger you now. Is that alright?”

George still has a dopey smile on his face, still has his pupils blown out with desire. So he nods his head, and giggles when Dream plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Dream spread the lube over his fingers and uses his other hand to warm them up. He plants one lube covered hand back on George’s thigh, and uses the other to start prodding at George’s hole.

When he finally pushes in, it’s like the stars align. George shudders so perfectly, grinds himself back onto Dream’s finger, and Dream’s eyes nearly roll back into his head with how tight and warm George feels around him. He pumps his finger in and out of George a few times, before George asks so sweetly for another. And because Dream has never denied George, _could_ never deny him with how sweetly he asks, he pushes in another.

Dream’s favorite part of fingering George has always been watching George’s face. The way his eyes screw shut, how he crinkles his nose and bites his lip, almost like he’s trying to keep all of the pleasure inside of him. All the pleasure that Dream will give him, over and over again until the world stops turning.

Because it looks like George is getting antsy, Dream takes pity on him and adds another finger. In and out, in and out, until he spreads them and George moans with the stretch.

“Dream, please,” George cries out, pushing Dream’s shoulder, almost trying to force Dream out of him. “Come on I’m ready.”

Dream leans in to kiss him deeply, relishes in the way George’s mouth is tight and demanding, despite the begging he did not 5 seconds ago. “Almost baby,” Dream whispers against George’s lips. “Just wanna make you feel good, okay? Just a few more minutes.”

George groans, throwing his head back onto his balled up shirt beneath him. He’s being petulant, childish, fucking _bratty_ just because Dream won’t do exactly what he wants exactly when he wants it. Which may work in every single other scenario in their lives, but right now? With George spread underneath him like a feast, completely nude and flushed and writhing in pleasure? Dream’s in control, and the ugly, animal part of his gut that demands he fuck George until he’s overstimulated and crying will make sure it stays that way.

So Dream pushes his fingers a little rougher into George, changing up the angle, refamiliarizing himself with George’s body until-

“ _FUCK!”_

“That feel good baby?”

Dream knows it does. He knows, from they way George’s body is completely tensed up and desperately shoving itself back onto Dream’s hand, his cries getting louder and more obscene with each movement.

“Come on baby, use your words.”

The glare George directs at him could kill him, if he were anyone else. Instead, Dream just smirks and roughly pumps his fingers a few more times. When it looks like George’s lip is about to split with how hard he’s biting it, Dream does a little “go on” motion with his head, because he’s an asshole. And he wants George to say it.

“You’re an asshole.” Okay well he didn’t want George to say that part- “Dream please just fuck me ohmygod.”

Good enough. He carefully pulls his fingers out of George and pours some more lube onto his cock. While he was busy fingering him, he almost forgot just how _hard_ he was, his entire world reduced to _George George George George’s face George’s cock George’s smile George George George._ But now he can’t help but take a few moments to stroke his own dick, thinking about how good it’s going to feel to be inside of George again.

George (ever impatient little bastard) uses his foot to prod at Dream’s stomach. “Are you seriously gonna just stand there and jerk off? Or are you actually going to fuck me at some point?”

“Fuck you,” Dream says with all the fondness in the world. He uses George’s ankle to hitch up his leg, lines up he cock with George’s ass. He feels the enormity of the situation in his bones, knows so much has changed between them, knows that he and George aren’t the same two people they were when they were last like this.

But if that were true, then why does it feel so familiar?

And so Dream pushes in, lets out a sigh of almost relief when he feels the head of his cock push past George’s rim. He starts slowly, wants to make sure he gets this right, wants to make sure that everything about George is still the same as it was the last time he was inside of him. So he pushes in, inch by inch, so slowly he can feel every individual patch of skin as it gets enveloped in George’s heat. And when his hips finally meet the soft skin of George’s thighs, he folds himself against George covering his body like a blanket.

He and George pant into each others ears. It’s so much, everything is so much but not nearly enough and all Dream wants to be able to move but he needs to hear George say-

“Dream, come on _move_.”

Dream sits up and grabs George by the hips. He pulls out of him as slow as he possibly can and pushed back in the same way. He’s already so close, can feel his orgasm building in the back of his tongue. But he wants to make this last, wants to be as good as possible for George, wants to make him remember what he was missing those months he spent alone in his cottage in the flower forest, wants to make George come back, wants to keep George here. He wants to hold George as close to him as possible, back George into a corner and cover him with his body, where no one can see him but Dream. Wants to keep George full of his cock all the time, wants George to feel nothing but warm and fucked out and _good_ all the time. He wants so many things so much, the ugly, possessive part of him is relishing in the way George is squirming on his cock. He wants to cover himself in George, make his entire world nothing but _George_ , so he noses his way back into the crook of George’s neck and takes a deep inhale of George’s lilac fucking shampoo. Doesn't think he should be able to breathe anything that isn't _George._

It's here, his nose full of lilacs and his head full of the ugliest fucking thoughts Dream can think of, that George whines, “Jesus Christ Dream will you properly fuck me already? I’m not going to break.”

Dream loses it. Every single animalistic, possessive thought Dream has _reels_ as he thrusts into George as hard as he possibly can, spurred on by the knowledge that _George wants him to_. He fucks into him mercilessly, pulls George up into his lap and fucks him the way that makes him _preen_. Hard and fast and with no regard for anything else in the world, except George and George’s moans and the way George feels on his dick.

And George looks _so fucking beautiful_ , legs splayed in Dream’s lap, trying so hard to take everything Dream’s giving him. He must be hitting George’s prostate at this angle, because George looks so blissed out with every thrust that if Dream were a better man he’d be concerned.

But he’s not a better man. A better man would slow down, would be concerned with the way that every harsh thrust seems to push more air out of George’s lungs. A better man would stop and wipe away the tears that are running down George’s face, would wrap a hand around George’s swollen dick.

Dream is not a good man, so he revels in the way George is so fucked out that he cant move, can’t think, can only make his pretty little noises and cry out _Dream! Dream! Dream!_ like it it’s the only word he knows. Idly, Dream thinks George looks like he’s _dying_ , face turning red and breathes becoming lighter, almost like he’s not getting enough air. Can’t even _breathe_ because all he can do is _take it_ as Dream fucks him out of his mind. Wonders what he would do if George stopped breathing.

_Oh, duh._ Dream thinks. _He would just bring him back to life_.

The thought might be the darkest, ugliest thought of Dream’s yet. But for some reason, Dream doesn’t feel that way. He feels like a God, closer to Godhood than he’s ever felt before, above the most beautiful boy in the world, making him feel so good and so loved he might _die from it_. He thrusts into George harder, if that’s even possible, loves the way George seems to suck him back in every time he pulls out. It’s because his place in the world is above George, making him feel good, fucking him until he can’t breathe, and if Dream keeps feeling as high as he does in this moment, he thinks it might be enough.

Somehow, George musters up the stamina to try and grab his own cock. Dream shut that down quickly, pinning George’s hand above his head.

“No no no baby,” Dream tuts. “You’re gonna come on my cock or not at all.” Sweat is dripping down Dream’s body from the exertion, but Dream can’t even feel it. Can’t feel anything but the desire to make George come.

George whines, high in the back of his throat. He tries to throw his weight around to dislodge his wrist from Dream’s hold, but he’s so weak it doesn’t even make a difference. Dream thinks it’s adorable.

“Can’t- I can’t-“

“Yes you can baby.” Dream can’t help but smile, hunger nearly satiated. All he needs is for George to come on his cock, for George to feel so good, and everything will be so so perfect. He goes mad with it, pulls all the way out and thrusts all the way back in every time, watches George’s face for every minute change, every twist of pleasure.

But he’s _close_. Dream can feel his own orgasm about to hit him like a freight train, so he leans over George’s body while he keeps thrusting into him and gets as close to his ear as he possibly can.

“I had a space for you,” Dream pants out, open and vulnerable to whatever George has to say about it. “In the room, with everyone’s shit. There was a space for you.”

“W-What?”

Dream groans, the admission taking some part of his soul with it, “I had a room for you, behind the walls.”

“Dream I-“

“I couldn’t- _fuck-_ I couldn’t stand losing you. So I had a little room set up for us, to keep us safe.”

“Why would- why would you do that?”

Dream pulls away to look George in his eyes, has to be looking George in his eyes when he admits this. “Because you’re the only thing I care about.”

George’s back arches off the floor as he comes, trying to get as close to Dream as possible. He feels George flutter around his cock, feels him come land on both of their chests, and with that Dream comes too. He was right, the intensity of it all hits him like a fucking train. Every single muscle in his body tenses and releases at a rapid fire pace, and for a moment Dream thinks _he’s_ going to be the one to die. All he sees is blinding light and _George, always George_. He’s never felt this high in his entire life.

At some point, he comes to, having almost crushed George with his bodyweight. But instead of pushing Dream off or grumbling about how he needs to lose weight, George is just running his hands through Dream’s hair, letting him come down on his own time.

When he’s thinking properly again, he pulls out of George, sits back to watch the way his come runs out of George’s hole. When he looks at George’s face again, he just rolls his eyes. Dream collapses again, this time taking care to fall to George’s right, gathering him up close to his chest.

“Where you actually going to put me in a fucking cage like Skeppy?”

Ok so that’s not what Dream was expecting to hear immediately after one of the best orgasms of his life. “What the hell? No of course not.”

“Oh, so you were lying then.”

“What- I- well, no.”

George looks at him, somehow both unamused but desperately trying not to laugh in Dream’s face. It’s a good look for George, Dream thinks. But then again, everything’s a good look for George.

“Well I mean it wasn’t a cage, per say…”

“Then what the fuck were you going on about?”

“I wasn’t a cage!” Dream explains, frantically waving his arms around like it’ll make his reasoning better. “It was like, it was like bedroom! It was like an entire room, with furniture and heating and stuff!”

“So you were just going to keep me locked behind the walls of your smelly old evil lair?”

“Okay I’m not the one who came at the thought of it.”

“That was horny me! The things I get off to and the things I want in my day-to-day life are not the same!”

“Yeah whatever.” Dream mimics George and rolls his eyes.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, letting the afterglow carry the conversation for them. He missed a lot of things about George, Dream is realizing, and one of them was how he always felt so comfortable with him, even in the silence.

“It wasn’t a cage.”

“Are you seriously still talking about this?” George makes a move like he’s about to get out of Dream’s hold, but he ends up just readjusting his position a few seconds later. He can’t help the sigh of relief.

“It wasn’t a cage,” Dream tries to convey the seriousness of the situation of the situation in each one of his words. “It was just my bedroom, it was behind one of the walls in the base. There was a double bed, I had spare chests for your things. I had vases of the flowers I know you like in the library,” _Lilacs_ , Dream can’t help but think to himself. “It was just my home, and there was always a space for you, if you wanted it.”

“Oh.”

The silence carries them once again.

“Did you want it?”

Dream didn’t want to break the moment of comfortable silence between them, but he has to. Has to ease the ugly possessive part of him, has to know if George wants him too.

“Of course I did.”

Dream hold him tighter, buries his face in the top of George’s head. Almost every cell in Dream’s body knew George’s answer before he said it, but he had to hear it. Had to hear George say it was okay.

“So Mr. Evil Supervillian, what’s your plan to escape maximum security prison?” This time, George does actually sit up. Even though he’s not making a move to pull on his clothes, even though he’s still touching him, Dream misses him already.

“Oh ya know,” Dream smirks, stretching his arms above his head. “I have some favors to call in.”

George looks away, into the wall of lava that smothers Dream’s cell. “I can help.”

Dream wants to protest. The part of his body that’s hardwired to keep George _safe_ , to keep him out of harms way, to tuck him into a little room thousands of miles away underneath the ground with his favorite flowers almost rips Dream apart at the suggestion.

But George knows him, and George knows what he’s thinking. “Dream. I’m helping.”

And Dream knows him, knows how George sounds when he’s dug his heels in and made up his mind. “You read all of those waivers that Sam made you sign. You could die.”

“Yeah,” George shrugs. “I could. But you won’t let me.”

Dream pales. George needs to get out of his _god damn head_. “No,” Dream confirms. “No I wouldn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> And for my next trick, I'll write 5k words of Corpse Husband cucking Dream! Any truers??
> 
> That was mostly a joke, but also maybe not anymore now that I've posted this. Anywho, I hope y'all enjoyed! I took a lot of head canons about Dream and George from my Tumblr mutuals. If you have a Tumblr, come say hi! My url is gays4thebloodgod! I post a lot of dnf content lol.
> 
> If you did enjoy, please leave a kudos and maybe a comment? This is the first fanfic I've ever posted, and I really love the Dream SMP fandom so I might write more in the future! Love y'all!
> 
> Small update: Just me fixing a bunch of little typos that didn't matter at all but were driving me mad. Also, I'm thinking I'll probably write a part 2 to this story, after it becomes clear what direction the plot of season 3 of the Dream SMP is going to be. So don't hold your breathe or anything because it'll probably take a while. In the meantime, I have a handful of other fic ideas (including the cuck fic). Thank you so much to everyone who's commented or sent me a nice message on Tumblr, you guys mean the world :D


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